The Story Of Neutral, My Creepypasta OC
by ZeroTone
Summary: This is the story of one of my Creepypasta OC's, Neutral.


The Story Of Neutral

 _My Creepypasta OC_

The woman drove down the shady road, the breeze making leaves float over in front of the car, getting run over. The woman's name was Hannah Morrison. She had blonde hair and sea blue eyes. She wore a grey T-shirt and denim capris, with white sandals. She looked beautiful, and the bright sun seemed to make her appearance even more beautiful.

In the backseat of the car sat her daughter, Lacey. She stared out the window, remembering what had happened a few weeks ago. She remembered driving down this way with her older brother, Tyler, to a swimming lesson. It was raining that day, and there were large puddles and darkness. Tyler had made a turn, swerving into a puddle, and losing control. Tyler's car spun around and around, until it crashed into a street lamp.

When Lacey opened her eyes, shards of glass were in her brothers arms and chest. He was slumped over, eyes closed and his face was in the airbag, crushing his legs. Shards of glass were also in the girls arms, but not her chest. Her eyes and neck hurt tremendously. She drifted into unconsciousness seconds later.

That was all she remembered, aside from her and Tyler's screaming, the screeching of tires, and the crash of the impact. Lacey was the lucky one, but her brother wasn't; he died on impact. Lacey also found that she had gotten an eye injury, causing her to no longer see any color.

She sat behind the drivers seat, the left side of her face pressed on to the cool glass, her left arm supporting her body weight on the arm of the seat. She occasionally scratched her right arm, bandaged from wrist to shoulder. She had blonde hair, like her mother. But her eyes were grey. You'd expect her to have her father's eyes if she didn't have her mother's. But her father's eyes were amber, not grey.

The girl had decided to be homeschooled. Not because of the accident and showing her face after, but because she was bipolar. She knew that due to all the stress, she would be an emotional wreck.

Hannah turned into the driveway of a small house. A man came out of the house, holding a bottle of beer. "Why is he here?" Lacey whispered to her mother. "He's your father, Lacey. He loves you," Hannah answered. "If he does love me, he would've come to the hospital," Lacey said to herself. "Welcome home, honey," said her father, Richard. He extended his arms, but Lacey ignored the offer. "Come here," he said, grabbing his wife's shoulder and kissing her on the cheek. Hannah wiped it away, squeezed her daughter's shoulder, and led her inside. "Aw, she's twelve. She can walk on her own," said Richard. "She's thirteen," Hannah corrected.

"Honey, let's get you inside, up to your room. You can rest if you'd like," Hannah whispered to Lacey. "No, mom. I'm twelve, I can walk by myself," Lacey said sarcastically, glaring at Richard. She stomped up the stairs and slammed the door as hard as she could. Her room was small. Just a bed, a bureau with clothes, and a television on top of it. The walls were Robin's Egg Blue, but to Lacey, they were light grey. She threw herself onto her bed and started crying into her pillow.

Somehow, between tears and stress, Lacey fell asleep, awoken by her mother calling her for dinner. It was quiet. No one said a word, just picked at their food. Richard and Hannah actually ate, but Lacey spun the noodles in her bowl around and around in a circle. She wasn't very hungry, but she ate a few bites anyway before she excused herself.

Hours later, Lacey lay awake in bed, watching TV. Her mother came in. "When is he going to leave," she asked. Hannah sighed. "I don't know. He's staying, for all I know," she answered. Lacey turned to lay on her left side, so she would see her mother. Hannah sighed, kissed Lacey's cheek, and left.

Lacey awoke in the night. She checked the time. "3:47 a.m? Seriously?" She tossed and turned, but couldn't fall asleep. She got out of bed and went to the bathroom. She turned on the sink and splashed some water onto her face. She looked in the mirror, expecting to see her grey reflection. Instead, it was her brother's.

His hair was out of place, bloody and some hair torn out. He himself was covered in blood and dirt, with glass shards in his arms and his chest. His mouth was wide open, as he roared and moaned at her. Lacey was paralyzed. She tried to hit him, put all she felt was air. He was gone.

Lacey went back to bed, unable to fall asleep. Her eyes were wide, staring at the ceiling. She was finally going crazy, she thought. Because ghosts aren't real. She tried to reassure herself, but a voice in her head said, "But what if they are? Maybe that was Tyler trying to communicate."

Lacey shook her head. "No, Tyler's dead, and there is no such thing as ghosts," she whispered. There was a crash and a screech coming from the bathroom. The screeches turned into words, "Why, Lacey? I could've lived! You didn't save me!" Lacey shook her head left and right, whispering, "No, no," every few seconds. The screeching words silenced, but Lacey didn't feel well. She went to the bathroom to throw up, but she didn't make it, and instead of vomit coming out of her mouth, blood came out.

It was on the floor, her bandaged arms, legs, on her face, in her hair, in her mouth. On the walls, even. She began to chuckle, then laugh maniacally. Her parents came rushing out of their room. "Oh, my god! Lacey! Are you alright?" cried Hannah. "Why, yes, mother. Never better," Lacey answered calmly. Richard and Hannah stared at Lacey while she walked down the hall, down the stairs, past the kitchen, and into the garage.

Lacey dug through her father's work shelf, trying to find d a suitable weapon. She came across a hook hammer. "Oh, perfect," she said. She walked back inside the house, past the kitchen, up the stairs, and down the hall to look at be parents in the eyes. "Mommy, Daddy," she said. Richard and Hannah stared as she rose the hook hammer. "Its time for bed. Lights out."

Lacey had changed out of her bloody t-shirt and sweatpants, and put on a black hoodie, black jeans, black healed boots, and wrapped a black and white striped scarf, a gift from one of her friends, around her neck. She walked out of the house, putting the hood over her head.

The man was in his late 50's. He was pretty healthy, despite his arthritis. He went out jogging every morning, and this morning was no different. He jogged past the park, where a few people were out shooting hoops. He jogged into a mostly deserted area of town. He noticed a young girl about the age of 13 in a black hoodie in front of him. "Hey, kid, you all right?" he asked her. "The girl turned to him. She started walking towards him. "I'm just fine. Now, mister, it's bed time." She took the hammer out of the pocket on the front.

"Light's out."


End file.
